I tell Aaron, I say,
"When you fall in love, make sure
it's with someone real."
Nevermind that I couldn't
define imaginary if I wanted to,
or that I've never loved anyone
real in my life, ghosts and fuckups all,
boys of poems for bones and grafted skin.

To give advice is easy.
You open your mouth and spit,
saliva-covered diamonds,
wet and hard like bullets.
I shot you, and now your
pretty blood is on my hands,
but you didn't learn anything new.

Still, Aaron tells me, he says,
"You're right, of course."
So now he's going to throw himself
at any girl who doesn't send his head
into the clouds, who doesn't make him
see stars. It's going to work out for the best.
Real love won't ever let you down,
because it never tried to lift you up.

09/28/2005

Author's Note: I know a boy named Aaron. He lives in Ohio.

Posted on 09/29/2005
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